Through Night to Light Part 74

Do you love that man? Must I lose my last child then?"

"Be calm, mamma. I shall not leave you in our misfortune. There is the letter to the princess. One moment, mother."

She sat down and wrote in great haste a few lines.

"Well, that is done! I am free once more! Come, mamma; I will show you that I have still strength and courage enough for life. Come!"

And she drew the baroness, who willingly yielded herself up to her daughter's superior energy, with her out of the room.

A minute later the two ladies had left Waldenberg House, and half an hour afterwards the train carried them away from the city.

CHAPTER XVI.

As Oswald hurried down the street, scarcely knowing what he was doing, he felt suddenly some one seize him by the arm. It was Mr. Timm.

After his encounter with Mr. Schmenckel Mr. Timm had been compelled to abandon his post of observation near the princess's house in order to go into the courtyard of one of the adjoining houses, and there wash off the blood which the director's weighty fist had drawn from mouth and nose. Timm was as angry as he had ever been in his life. It was the rage of the hunter when he sees a wild beast tearing his cunningly-woven nets and escaping from his most ingenious trap. This b.o.o.by of a Schmenckel, with his stupid honesty! How he had worked at the man to dazzle him with golden prospects; and now! It was enough to turn a man's brain! The glorious fortune all lost! And why? For nothing but a fit of honesty! And if Oswald, too, should be such a fool! These blockheads can never be left alone for a moment! And just now the bleeding will not stop! What enormous strength that fellow has!

Thus it came that the martyr of stupid honesty saw neither Mr.

Schmenckel nor the prince leave the house, nor Oswald go in, and he was now also but just in time to overtake the latter as he was rather running than walking down the street.

"Hallo! sir!"

"What is it?"

"Well, I ask _you_ that!"

"Is that you?"

"Who else? How did it go? Did the old one give in promptly?" And he was about to slip his arm familiarly in Oswald's arm; but Oswald stepped back.

"Don't touch me!" he said, "or I will beat your brains out!"

"Oh ho!" said Timm, giving way; "is he crazy too?"

"Wretch!" cried Oswald. "You wretch! who make vulgarity your profession, and speculate on vice. Let me never find you again in my way, or you will repent it!"

He left Timm, who had first turned ashy pale and then broken out into loud laughter, and hurried away. He did not mind where his feet carried him! He went as in a dream, and what he saw and heard appeared to him only like dreamy images: curious, terrified faces of women and children in doors and windows; dense crowds of men, who seemed to tell each other fearful things with wild gestures and loud exclamations; running and shouting, yelling and whistling on all sides, and between the mournful ring of alarm-bells from all the steeples. Then, as Oswald left the aristocratic portion of the town further and further behind him, a new sound mingled with the others: a very peculiar rattling noise, and a low thundering, which made the very houses tremble.

But all this did not rouse him from his waking dream. The sorrow for his ruined happiness had made him blind and deaf to the sorrow of a whole ill-treated nation. Suddenly a ghastly spectacle startled him.

From one of the side streets a young man came running out, who cried: "Treason! treason! They are firing at us!" The young man's blouse was torn and covered with blood; his face was pale, his hair dishevelled; he staggered like a drunken man, and suddenly he fell down right before Oswald. Oswald raised him up, and in an instant a crowd of men and women were around them. "He is dying!" cried the men. "A curse upon the executioners!" The women shrieked. One cried out: "Take him; don't you see the gentleman can hardly stand himself!" A man took the dying youth from Oswald's arms. Suddenly Oswald felt some one touch him. He turned around and saw Berger. Oswald's soul had during the last hours been so overwhelmed with strange, exceptional events and sensations that he was prepared even for the most extraordinary occurrences. And if there was a man in this world whom he wished to see just then it was his friend and teacher, the companion of his fate. Oswald did not ask him how? and whence? He threw himself into Berger's arms.

"Glad you are here," said the other, hurriedly; "come! let the dead bury the dead. We must work and be doing as long as it is day!"

They hastened off together.

With every step they came nearer to the crater of the revolution which had broken out a few hours before. In this part of the city barricades were going up, built by a thousand brave and skilful hands, and manned by death-defying men and boys, mostly belonging to the lower cla.s.ses of the people. These improvised fortresses did not inspire much hope of being able to resist long, for they consisted mostly of one, or at best of several, heavy wagons, torn-off planks, and other similar objects, hastily piled up together, while the arms of the small garrison were generally only rusty old swords, pikes, guns without locks, and similar instruments.

Berger stopped here and there giving advice, encouraging others, and calling with his deep, sonorous voice "To arms! to the barricades!" But whenever Oswald offered to lay hand on the work himself he kept him from it.

"Not here," he said; "these are only our outposts, which must be given up quickly. No barricade can be defended successfully in this straight, wide street. The gross of the revolution is further back."

Thus they came to Broad street, near Mrs. Black's private hotel.

The hotel was a corner house, and a narrow by-street led past its side into Brother street. In the narrow alley was the Dismal Hole. Here the excitement was intense. From the great square, near the palace, platoon firing was heard, and quite a cannonade; but no trace of barricades was yet to be seen.

"Are these men mad?" cried Berger. "If they do not mean to throw up fortifications here, where will they do it?"

On the steps of the hotel, surrounded by a crowd, stood a gentleman in a white cravat who spoke eagerly to the people: "His majesty has been pleased to receive the deputation." "Away with your majesty!" cried an angry voice. "His majesty is pleased to shoot his faithful subjects and to receive them with grapeshot!" cried another voice. "Gentlemen!"

shrieked the orator, "do not give way to feelings of hatred and revenge. His majesty consents to withdraw the troops as soon as you lay down your arms." "And as soon as we offer our throats to the knife!"

cried a tremendous voice, and a man suddenly stood by the side of the orator in the white cravat.

It was Berger. His gray hair was hanging wildly around his uncovered head; his eyes were burning as if the revolution itself had taken his form and voice. "Will," he continued, "you hesitate, and fear, and negotiate, while your brethren are murdered in the next street? Are you ever going on trusting, you trusting, deceived, cheated people. You will gain nothing but what you conquer, arms in hand; you will have no liberty which you do not purchase with your blood. Do not chaffer and bargain any longer, but give the high price--your life's blood!--for the precious boon!--for liberty! To arms! To arms!"

"To arms! To arms!" It resounded with the voice of thunder on all sides. "Victory or death! To arms!"

The unarmed hands rose, as if to swear.

Berger had hurried down the steps. They surrounded him; they pressed his hands. Some asked him to "take the matter in hand;" a leader they must have.

Berger looked around. Suddenly he rushed towards a tall, thin gentleman who was pushing his way through the crowd.

"There is your man!" he cried, taking the tall stranger by the hand.

"He must be our leader. Step up there, Oldenburg, and speak to them only a few words. You understand that better than anybody else!"

Oldenburg was on the porch.

"Gentlemen!" he said, raising his hat; "let us follow the fashion of the day and build a barricade. I practiced the art a fortnight ago for a little while in the streets of Paris. If you will make use of my experience for want of a better man, I am heartily at your service. I am ready to build with you, to fight with you, to conquer with you, and, if it must be, to die with you!"

The iron ring in Oldenburg's voice, his manner of speaking easy and yet so persuasive had a charm which the crowd could not resist. It flashed like an electric shock through all hearts.

"You shall be our leader!" they cried on all sides. "Let the black-beard be our captain!"

"Well, then," said Oldenburg, raising his voice; "every man to the barricade!"

The magic word brought about incredible activity. The confused, helpless ma.s.s suddenly came to order. In all minds but one thought seemed to be uppermost--to build a barricade--and all hands were busy at the one common work.

"We must be done in ten minutes!" said Oldenburg, "or we might just as well not have commenced at all."

Oldenburg's marvellous coolness and quickness, his sharp eye and his firm decision, did honor to his place as leader. He seemed to be everywhere at once, and his clear, loud voice was heard at all points.

Here they tore up the pavement as he commanded; there they raised the large slabs of the sidewalk to arm the sides of the upturned wagons, which had to serve as bulwarks here, as well as in all places where time is pressing. Doors taken from their hinges, planks bridging over gutters, bags filled with sand, completed the strength of this structure, which rose with a rapidity proportionate to the feverish excitement that beat in all hearts. Every muscle, every sinew, was strained to the utmost; boys were carrying loads which ordinarily a man would have considered heavy; men who only knew how to use a pen suddenly seemed to be endowed with muscles of steel. Above all, however, a man in a worn-out velvet coat signalized himself by exploits in comparison with which all the rest seemed to be but the work of pigmies. Wherever anything was to be lifted or to be dragged which no one could master, they called laughingly for "Hercules"--the popular voice had given him the name after the first five minutes--and Hercules ran up, stretched out his mighty arms, or leaned his broad shoulders against it, and the immoveable ma.s.s seemed of a sudden to become a mere trifle.

"Bravo, Mr. Schmenckel!" said Oldenburg, patting the giant on the back; "but spare your strength; we shall need it all."

"Pshaw, your excellency, baron!" replied Mr. Schmenckel, wiping the perspiration from his face with his sleeve; "that is not anything."